Little Monsters
by D'Fuentes
Summary: Michelangelo and Donatello team up to do the unthinkable. One-shot.
1. Chapter 1

_This came to mind since my recent dwellings with one-shots like 'Extreme Sitter' and 'Google Fascination'. It is apparent that I'm still obsessed over the TMNT crew that I obviously have no ownership of nor do I gain profit from writing about them. I've given you Donatello and Raphael, and then Leonardo and Raphael, now let's see what Donatello and Michelangelo have been up to in their youth._

_Warning: Mischief About._

* * *

...

"Are you sure it wouldn't hurt?" Michelangelo dropped his current masterpiece: a collage of old, used coloring book pages, tied together by pieces of string, and ogled his brother.

The other frowned, reluctantly looking up from his own art that he was intently working on, and said, "Michelangelo, I've told you a gazillion times already; no, it doesn't hurt. I am sure of it. You'll have to see for yourself." The turtle huffed in annoyance and returned to his work.

It was now Michelangelo's turn to frown. His sibling seemed quite certain about himself on this matter, and him being the smarter turtle - he talked smarter anyway and knew a lot more than him - it would be safe to assume that his words were true, but somehow Michelangelo found difficulty in convincing himself to go along with their plan.

"But what about Leo and Raph? Why can't they do it?" He jerked his head in the general direction of the pair, and crossed his arms; upset with the decision.

Donatello glanced at the two who were off to one side of their den, practicing their katas - of course on each other. They went through motions of firing and dodging shaky kicks, throwing jerky punches at each other, and then when they ran out of stances; they resorted to made-up moves. They wrapped their arms around each other's neck and took to the ground, rolling, grunting, protesting, and occasionally laughing.

Donatello scoffed at them; unimpressed, "No, they would be too scared to do it," he stated as a matter of fact.

Michelangelo nodded in agreement, but he also knew that this was one of those 'he and Don' things. Their other brothers could not be included. He opened his mouth to ask 'just' one more question but the sound of familiar feet shuffling into their home made him stop to look around.

He suddenly felt safe yet anxious. Master Splinter was home.

* * *

...

Splinter smiled when he entered his den and saw his little ones in the same positions as he had originally left them: Michelangelo and Donatello making arts and crafts on the floor, and Raphael and Leonardo rough-housing. Well, maybe not those two. At least they weren't fighting.

All the activities came to an end abruptly when they became aware of his presence, and four pairs of eyes looked up at him expectantly. It was late, and they were waiting on him to return from his nightly rounds. Every night, after he had them all fed, he would find himself scouting just beyond the perimeter of their burrow, watching and listening for nearby threats or intruders of any sort. Though, in these sewers, the threats were rarely there; thus far.

The master imagined his behavior was due to his ancestral nature as a rodent, and never gave up the paranoid habit. It was a good thing. Feeling safe to be with all four of his young ones again, he allowed his tiredness to weigh him down. "Come, little ones," he beckoned them to gather around him, "I believe it is time for you to go to sleep."

"Aw man," Raphael groaned, "and I was just about to have Leonardo beat."

Splinter had no idea as to where the turtle found some of his words, but he was too exhausted to correct him, and chuckled, rubbing the disappointed terrapin's head as he ushered them towards their bed.

"No, you did not, Raphael," Leonardo objected loudly, crawling onto a worn-out, single-sized mattress. It was one of three that Splinter had discovered in an alley one night, abandoned by the previous owners, and he dragged each of them back to their home, thinking only of his sons and how fast they were growing.

"That is enough, boys," he ordered, nudging Raphael to get in his bed as well. Despite his hesitancy, the turtle went straight up next to his bickering partner and laid down for the night.

"Master Splinter, look! I made this for you," Donatello shoved a small, cream colored piece of paper into his face for him to see, and smiled proudly. "See, it's all of us," he pulled the shape apart to reveal a chain of similar figures with arms and legs which were linked by their hands.

Splinter smiled at the child, "That is very impressive, Donatello. Thank you."

Both he and said turtle climbed on top of the mattress with him at the end of all three youngsters. Now it was just one more offspring to go, and this one, he realized, was a lot quieter than the rest tonight. '_Strange_,' he looked around for Michelangelo.

"Michelangelo?"

The turtle stood at the edge of their beds, looking mystified and dropped a pair of scissors on the ground just at the top corner of the mattress. Splinter, already too tired to question his actions or to demand that he put them away in a proper manner, simply said, "Come here, son. No more art for today. It is time for your bed," he patted the space beside him; specially reserved for this turtle because the others complained of having him next to them.

"Kay," he smiled genuinely and hopped down next to him, instantly rolling into a fetal position to sleep.

Splinter hummed an old lullaby as he listened to each of them fall deep under the spell of their dreams. He would fall asleep soon after, and then they would all gravitate towards him for his body heat. They were reptiles after all.

...

Splinter didn't know what made him emerge from his deep, needed slumber, but he was suddenly aware of something hovering near him. All his senses said so, and his acute sense of smell told him that it was Michelangelo moving about, however he chose not to open his eyes. The child had a tendency of looping his arms over his face, or tugging at his arms for hugs in his fits of sleep, so this was probably normal or so the elder thought, until...

"SNIP!"

His eyes flew open at the sound and they were greeted by a very surprised, extremely shocked Michelangelo, who was hovering over him with the same pair of scissors that he had failed to lecture him about early.

He was sure he had never growled like that in his entire existence, yet a loud roar escaped his lips when he shot up, clutching his nose for murder. His face twitched at the strange burning, tingling sensation that marauded through his skin, and he palpated the area involuntarily. He searched for a word to describe the feeling since it wasn't pain. No, it was numb! Alien and numbing!

"What? What is it?" Raphael flew up; ready to fight.

"Raph! Get behind me!" Leonardo demanded; now standing on his feet, pulling his sibling to safety behind him.

Splinter looked back at his sons who were all now wide awake, forgetting Michelangelo's early start. His eyes then locked on the guilty tike. '_The little, green akuryo chopped off my whiskers_!'

"Oooops," Mikey muttered, dropping the scissors, and backing away in fear. His eyes were as round as saucers and his breath hitched.

"Master Splinter?" Three voices queried his strange behavior; suddenly afraid because of how his action violently ripped them out of their dream worlds. Splinter didn't look to them, instead, he stared long and hard at the lone terrapin that now had his shell jammed against the grimy wall in pure terror, and wondered what kind of punishment he should deal out to him.

"Uh-oh," he heard Donatello behind him and that brought him out of his trance.

Splinter inhaled deeply as Michelangelo swallowed the lump in his throat. He strode closer to the uneasy turtle, stared at him directly in the eye, stopped short, leaned over, picked up the scissors and exited the den, leaving his son shaking like a leaf caught in a brutal storm. He figured that in his little brain, he must have done the ultimate disgrace. Cut off his master's whiskers.

Splinter shook his head at the idea. What could have beheld the little _akuryo_ to look at him and decide to cut off half his whiskers? He went to the edge of a drain and let the sharp object drop into the murky fluids with a plunk; satisfied that the vile device was now permanently removed from his home, and then he went back to his odd family. He should have gotten rid of it the first time Donatello snipped off a patch of his fur.

...

Back in the den, Splinter raised one paw to silence them. He didn't want to hear anything. He didn't want to frighten his son any further than he already had. It was Michelangelo, and he had to sleep next to him. The mutated rat sighed heavily. His heart laden with other worries. What if he had decided to cut off his tail instead? He shuddered. That one's curiosity was certainly a danger.

He got them all back to bed quickly, placing Donatello between himself and Michelangelo: the _'whisker chopper_'. That would suffice as enough punishment for now; that and the lost scissor.

"Master Splinter?" His son whispered; turning towards him.

"Yes, Michelangelo?"

"Did it hurt?" The turtle asked, sounding pretty much concerned if not remorseful for the incident.

Soothed by the caring nature found in one so very young; Splinter sighed, "No, my son. It did not hurt...it just felt ...weird," he reassured him. "I believe...they will grow back." He hoped. "Now go to sleep," he ordered.

The turtle sighed in relief, and turned back on his side. "G'night, Sensei," he mumbled.

"Good night, Michelangelo."

...

It took Splinter a while to find the peace in his mind again to fall back to sleep, and when he finally found it, he caught it, and as soon as the drag began sucking him back into darkness, he heard a voice.

"See, I told you so!" Donatello's harsh whisper woke him up, and he saw the turtle leaning into the other's ear before Michelangelo's hand swatted him back down. Donatello didn't retaliate as he was content with his win, and settled back into sleep.

Splinter groaned. '_Little __akuryo_!'

* * *

...

_Mischief Managed!_

_I've always expressed my view on Donatello and Michelangelo being equally curious; albeit for completely different reasons._

_Didn't see that coming did ya? "SNIP!"_

_Heh heh heh_

_What did you expect? I have a weird sense of humor, I know. I wish it were shorter, though. I really tried to shorten it, but I just can't return to the hurried forms of writing. Sorry. I've been practicing, but I've mostly saved my descriptive writing for my originals e.g. AIR by Finding Maria on fiction press. Now I've contaminated TMNT. I'm ranting, sorry._

_I bet you're wondering; why in the world would Donatello say that Raph and Leo would be too scared to do the task?_

_Well for one: Raphael may be aggressive towards his sibling/s, but he will never do anything to deliberately harm their Sensei. Never._

_Two: Leonardo would see that as highly disrespectful, and his young mind could never fathom doing such a thing as that._

_And three: I suppose both of them would have received the most punishment from Splinter for their behavior in general, so why physically mess with the ultimate punisher? No child in their right mind would do something that is worthy of punishment to the parent that deals it out the most. None. Unless they have a few loose screws!_

_Btw: I do not have any claim to Harry Potter either._

_Akuryo_ - evil spirit.


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, I got a lot of questions about the first Chapter so I'll answer them all in this piece. It was originally part of the first, but to me it was too much of boring. Heh heh. So here we go._

_Disclaimer: I do not own the following characters. They belong to Nickelodeon, and I definitely do not seek to make a profit off of this plot._

* * *

...

_Present Day_:

With his legs crossed like a meditating monk, Michelangelo sat staring at the dark watermarks that were etched all across the floor like veins, and traced the patterns with his mind as he waited for Master Splinter's judgment. He was mainly doing it to keep calm because he had done something extremely wrong on the night gone, and it was causing his nerves to fray from the roots within - not the edges.

He should have never listened to Donatello in the first place. That particular sibling had a habit of getting them into the worst kind of trouble. The kind where Master Splinter flies out of his sleep growling and roaring like an angry lion. He told him that Splinter wouldn't feel a thing if he cut it, and that was apparently a big, fat lie.

Even though Master Splinter said that it didn't hurt, Michelangelo knew that he certainly felt it, and that was warranted to be considered as pain. The young turtle wrinkled his face, feeling like he was betrayed. He looked up from the lines when Donatello came stomping back towards him with a pained look behind his eyes.

He had his arms folded across his plastron tightly, and sat down huffing, but not before casting a hateful glare at Michelangelo. Judging from the tears that were pooling around his brother's eyelids, Mikey knew that he was trying hard not to cry from the spanking he had received from Splinter. The turtle shifted uncomfortably in his Buddha pose, mentally preparing himself for his turn.

_At least a spanking from Sensei wasn't so bad_, Michelangelo thought. He would only give them one whack across the bum with a wooden stick for measure and the sting would only last for a few minutes before they forgot all about it by the end of the day. So that was a good sign.

"It isn't fair!" Donatello whined beside him, wringing his hands together, fighting back tears.

Michelangelo turned his head on the unbelievable terrapin to ask, "What do you mean it isn't fair? It was your idea!"

Donatello glared at him again. "It was you who wanted to prove it and I told you to cut _piece _of one, not _all_ off on one side. It's not fair that I get punished for not doing anything!" He snapped angrily.

Mikey wanted to laugh but abstained from doing so because Master Splinter was silently observing them. He usually did that when he was contemplating the next course of action (or punishment) to take with them. The turtle was little bit worried about that and chewed on his lower lip while his sibling complained.

"I don't get it," Don cried exasperated, "I cut off your fur, I get spanked. Mikey cuts off your whiskers, and I get spanked too. Why?" He demanded. Michelangelo cringed at that. Donatello was the only one that questioned Splinter's authority without fear that way, and the master's reaction was usually the same. He would extend their punishment; however, today he just sat there, thinking in silence.

"You already know why," Mikey pointed out smartly, warily watching the meditating Splinter out of the corner of his eye. "You were the one who sold yourself out anyway."

His words made Donatello snap his mouth shut and look down at his knees depressed. They both knew what lead up to this, and if their sensei was not done with punishing them then it meant that they were in for the 'Great Punishment of Doom', as Mikey liked to call it. He wasn't looking forward to that at all.

"I have made my decision," Splinter's eyes blinked open and he focused on the two young ones. The boys squirmed under his gaze. "I will not spank Michelangelo since it was not his intent to harm me," he watched Donatello carefully. "As for you, Donatello, you were the one who encouraged him to do it in spite of being previously warned about using those scissors on your family members - namely me - just so you can satisfy your curiosity -"

"That isn't fair either!" Donatello barked, interrupting their guardian. Splinter's ears turned back and flattened against his head as he narrowed his eyes angrily.

The child flinched in fear, regretting his err, and he still carried on his rebellion - but in a much lower tone, "You can't punish me and not Michelangelo..."

"I am not done," Splinter held up a paw to stop the little mutant's protest. His expression was hard and his gaze was very livid, but his voice never betrayed anything of his reservations for the terrapin's disrespectful behavior. No, he kept calm and patient as was expected of him when dealing with the inexperienced minds of his wards. "You must not interrupt the parent when he is speaking, my son."

_Oh-no, here it comes_, Mikey thought, squeezing his eyes shut when he heard the sensei's words. He wasn't too concerned about his brother's outburst upsetting the ancient rodent any further, because as far as he could tell; Splinter had already sentenced them to the 'Great Punishment of Doom'.

"You must only speak when it is your turn, Donatello," Splinter said, "is that understood?"

With lowered eyes, Donatello exhaled, exaggerating, "Hai, Sensei," he bowed.

"Good. Now, as for your punishment, both of you are grounded for two weeks with a daily regimen of strength building sessions," the elder finalized.

Donatello sighed; not in the least bit perturbed by the sentence, but Michelangelo was screaming his brain off on the inside, terrified of the damnation for fourteen whole days. They've never been sentenced that long before. At most five days, but never two, long, enduring weeks filled with days of 'Torture Sessions', as Raphael had labeled them. Michelangelo stifled a groan and shot a glare at Donatello, because he, out of the four of them was never disturbed by them. No wonder Splinter chose to spank him alone this time.

* * *

...

_Twenty-four hours earlier_:

Donatello was carefully going through his kata, trying to mimic the grace he had seen Splinter do it with, and finished the move by planting his right foot firmly on the ground; arms in the right position. He got it right this time! He beamed inwardly and turned to bolt towards their sensei to tell him about his success. However, Michelangelo stood in his path with the widest, questionable eyes yet.

"What?" Donatello asked, knowing that he came to ask him about something, and that's what he liked best about Mikey. He always thought of him as the source of information and he never taunted him about it like the others did.

"Donny, you know those long things on Master Splinter's face that he calls whiskers?"

Donatello blinked; taken aback by the strange question. "Yeah, what about them?"

Michelangelo leaned closer to him to whisper in his ear, "I think they're alive or something," he confessed earnestly. "Cause they twitch about a lot, like they're feeling around for something." He pulled back his head and his face was set in a grim, fearful way like he'd just made the world's most dangerous discovery.

Donatello studied the youngster for a moment before he busted out laughing. "You - you think they're alive!" Donatello was holding his sides, giggling hysterically.

His relative wasn't quite pleased with his reaction so he huffed, "I'm not joking, Donny! Stop laughing." He tugged on his arm in desperation, "I swear I saw them move like they were feeling for something! They're like… they're like creatures attached to his face. Do you think he knows? Do you think he's being controlled by some kind of bug-monster?" This time Mikey looked frustrated with Donatello, and he continued to tug at his brother's arm to cease his laughing.

"You big silly, that's ridiculous! Of course he knows that they're there. He's the one moving them," Donatello was still breathless from laughing and couldn't hold back the small snorts that escaped him as he watched Mikey's distressed face. "They're his whiskers and they're attached to his face, so of course they will move. He moves his face around a lot - like his nose - so you don't have to worry about it. They're just extra-long hairs. They're not alive, you doofus."

Unconvinced, Michelangelo frowned, "How are you so sure? You didn't see what I saw," he challenged. "They were twitching here and twitching there and, that can only mean one thing: they're alive!" His eyes bugged out dramatically.

"No, they're not. You're the one who's never paid attention to them," Don corrected him, "they're always moving around, especially when he wrinkles his nose."

"Donny, I'm telling you -"

"No, I'm telling you, Mikey" Donatello interrupted, poking his sibling in the plastron. "They're just extra-long hairs on his face. Hairs like the fur all over his body. If you cut them, he wouldn't feel a thing and they'll grow back."

"Ǿн yeah? Prove it," Michelangelo challenged.

"Nuh- uh. I already proved that when I cut off a patch of his fur, remember?"

"No, you didn't prove anything," his sibling returned quickly. "We're talking about his whiskers. They're different and they're alive. I'm sure of it."

"Well if you're so sure; then prove it," Donatello knew that this wasn't getting them anywhere so he decided on the only thing that would solve this "so-called" mystery on their hands. He was certain that they were just hairs, but Michelangelo seemed adamant about his claims and he couldn't allow that. He was the smart one after all. "All you gotta do is cut off a tiny piece off of one strand. That's all. Just one and do it while he's sleeping," he smiled darkly. "I promise you; he'll never feel it or know that it's gone. That'll prove which one of us is right. Although, I already know that I am."

Michelangelo stared.

"What's the matter, Mikey? Are you too scared to do it? Don't worry. It's easy. I did it once..." Donatello paused to study his brother.

"But, Donny, you got caught red handed," Michelangelo reminded him.

"Yeah, but that was only because Leonardo shouted at me and it made me jump. Master Splinter didn't feel a thing and I almost made him bald," he snickered.

"Donny, that isn't funny. Master Splinter is our father," Mikey raised a hairless brow at his brother worried. "Besides, how do you expect me to do that without getting caught like you did, uh?"

Donatello smirked, slipping an arm over Michelangelo's shoulder, "I know how... I'm feeling to draw or something, how 'bout you?" He conspired, and thus their plan was drawn.

* * *

...

_Present Day_:

Wisdom was something that was imparted on Splinter at the time of his mutation. Sadly, the wisdom to deal with these four hatch-lings at age six did not come with it. He sat calmly before the 'Whisker Chopper' and the 'Fur Clipper', seeking a hint of amusement out of the epithets he had given to them. He saw Michelangelo's chagrin towards their punishment, yet Donatello remained unaffected by it as always.

Their punishment was mostly comprised of a ban on all fun activities. No games, no ventures outside, and all of their free time was replaced by meditation and training. He also included 'Strength Building' sessions which varied for each turtle as they had to face their own individual fears. This was only a tactic he used when they did something terribly wrong and it didn't help when they all got into trouble together.

For example with Raphael, who had an immensely irrational fear of insects; Master Splinter would stage four critters, or to be more specific, cockroaches, within their home and then tell each of his sons that they must capture one roach alive with their bare hands to bring it to him. That was their task.

The very first time he tried this he had no idea of how bad Raphael's fear was. The others didn't seem to mind much and Donatello was the first to bring his in. Michelangelo cheated by using a small plastic container to trap his in before taking it into his hands. Then there was Leonardo and Raphael. Leonardo hadn't captured his as yet and was chasing the scurrying intruder about while Raphael bawled.

_"Get it away from me! Get it away from! I don't want to touch it! Master Splinter, I'm sorry. I will never do it again! Just get it away from me..." Tears were the only thing that didn't appear on his face so Splinter waited a while longer before he intervened._

_Suddenly, when the distressed child realized that Splinter wasn't paying attention to him, he got angry. He got so mad that he stomped down on one roach with his heavy, little foot, and dragged it across the floor to scrape the slime off from beneath his sole while scowling at the remnants._

_"Hey!" Leonardo shouted angrily, because it was his roach that Raphael had killed. "Why'd you do that? That was mine!" He whined._

_Raphael was too upset to pay attention to his brother so the wise rodent thought it was time to distract Leonardo before he started another fight. "My son, there is still one roach left to catch," he indicated._

_Leonardo looked back at his father and then to Raphael, and then he located the remaining cockroach. He smiled, leaped over to the bug and crushed it with his own foot. "Ha! I killed yours too, so there," he stuck out his tongue at his sibling and crossed his arms; satisfied by the balance. Splinter sighed. Now he had to lecture them both on how scared life is and why they must try their best to preserve it._

Leonardo's punishment focused on overcoming his fear of heights, and boy did he hate it so. Surprisingly the others enjoyed working with stilts and climbing so it wasn't necessarily punishment to them. To them it was a more exciting game to play and they often competed with one another to see who could outdo each other with fancy tricks. Leonardo never joined in because he wasn't pleased about being bested by his siblings or the fact that they teased him considerably over it. He was also stubborn about going up on anything high; to the point the elder had to either threaten him or put him up there himself; which wasn't optional because the boy weighed a ton.

Splinter cast a glance over at the two brothers who were - for a change - not in any trouble, and he was glad for it. He had them running through some new katas this morning so that he could deal with Michelangelo and accomplice. Michelangelo's designed 'Strength Building' sessions involved training in the dark and when the session was over; this turtle was often discovered attached to the first thing he found in the dark. Be it Leonardo, Donatello, the wall, pipes, you name it; he latched on to it in fear for the entire period. He tried to cling to Raphael once, but that terrapin wasn't having any of it and Michelangelo emerged with many bruises for scaring him. _Maybe these exercises are a bit too harsh for them_, Splinter thought despairingly.

The 'Fur Clipper' was a different story altogether. Donatello went through meditation with an unusually natural calm that didn't exist in the other children. It rivaled Leonardo's attention and he didn't seem bothered by the lack of external ventures either. He never whined about not being able to play or about the extra training. No, he took it calmly and quietly without a pout on his face.

When it came to 'Strength Building'; Donatello excelled at all; never displaying the amount of fear the rat had seen in the others. Yes, he was sometimes afraid of the dark, insects and heights, but not to extent that it paralyzed him and hindered his performance. He was able to overcome those childish fears with great ease and participate in the training with remarkable results. The young-ling showed no fear of anything much past his youthful age, not even water. This was Donatello's advantage. The sentient teacher had not yet developed a challenge worthy of Donatello's person. He could not punish him like the others and so he decided that two weeks was enough to make up for it. Maybe he'll learn something out of it... _How long can Donatello's perseverance last_? The master mused silently.

* * *

...

_I don't know how much I'm thrilled with this, but yeah.._.


End file.
